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I started “running” the autumn after we got here. 2010?
How? Well, I googled it. Found a couchcouch to 5k to 5k training plan, wrote that day’s run on a post-it, strapped the small boy into the stroller and off I went. In an oversized shirt. Down an unpopulated cycle track. I thought the 20 minute run would kill me. And it nearly did. But I can still remember the feeling of accomplishment when I completed it.
Once I got to 3 miles, running was part of my routine. I became slightly addicted. I liked the time with my own thoughts. Although some days it was all I could do to breathe.
The day after I found out I was pregnant again I lost the ability to run. I felt like my bones were going to fall out of my joints. It was odd. But what can you do? You have to listen to your body.
And so began my running hiatus. Which may or may not have been longer than the length of time I spent as a “runner”.
Then I had two kids and a husband who worked all the time. So there was no running. Until I grew sick of being a couch potato. I began to make time for myself, and I used that time to run. Not regularly. Or very fast. But every one of those runs felt like an accomplishment. Mainly because I was so unfit. Still, every step counts.
Once the big one started school, things became easier. A routine was established. A routine interrupted only by illness and public holidays. Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays were run days. Runs were 3 miles long. The odd time there was a 5 miler thrown in. It was cool. The small one didn’t complain. And would usually nap in there.
Then it started to take her longer to fall asleep. So I had to run further. Then one day I needed to go to the post office to pick up some flat rate boxes. So I decided to swing by on my run. And that’s how you accidentally run 6miles.
Now I run 8miles once a week. 22 miles total per week. Mondays and Tuesdays are 4, Wednesdays 6 and Fridays 8.

And now I’m a runner. I have more than one sports bra and everything!
So if you want to get out there, go do it! If I can, anyone can. The hardest part is putting on my running clothes. Once I do that, I know I’m going. So that’s my top tip. Putting the clothes on is oftentimes the hardest bit. The trick to keeping going? Comfortable underwear.

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I am now a proud graduate of the couch to 5k program. Whoop! The plan is to continue running 3 miles every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Because, hold on to your hats and try not to faint, I like it. I do. I even ran someplace the other day. That’s right, running as a mode of transport. Who am I??

I have also started “Shredding“. I think the word is masochism. I couldn’t walk for the first three days. But I kept “shredding” like a mad yoke. And running.

I might be on the road to madness. But I would like to say to the person who said (negatively) “Your legs will get very muscular”, thank you for your concern. I suspect that muscular legs at some point in the future might be the least of my worries. Right now I am worried about being able to keep up with a two year old. I am worried that my BMI is in the obese range even though I have lost a fairly significant amount of weight.

I am not worried about muscular legs.

If I were vain enough to worry about such things I would worry about muffin tops. And bingo wings. And stretch marks. All sorts of other things really. Muscular legs are waaaaay down the list. If they are even on it. Who looks at legs and goes “Hmm, they might be a bit muscular.” Honestly.

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So I may be a big quitter when it comes to “Reverberating” (and who can blame me), but I am pleased to report that the jogging and the weightloss (well, fingers crossed on that one!) are still going, with perhaps, a certain amount of gusto.Yes, gusto!

I am 9lbs down, and have completed week 3 of couch 2 5k. Yes, that’s right, I can “jog” for an entire 3 (consecutive!) minutes without collapsing in an absolute heap on the floor. In fact, I may have enough confidence now to go running along the street instead of the entirely deserted bicycle track over the road.

Another milestone for me in the whole “jogging” shennanigans is that I have gone on my own. Entirely on my own. I went with the Hubby a couple of times, but once I got a couple of weeks in, I realised that jogging with someone who does it all the time and who is an entire foot taller than you are means that whatever kind of cadence you may have achieved previously disappears completely. You start to get irritated by the sound of said giant jogger’s feet pounding away, drowning out the sound of your own. You forget what you are doing as you do it. It’s just unfeasible.

The Turtle is hugely supportive of this whole venture. “Let me out Mammy! Let me out!! I don’t like running! Maaaaaaaammmyyyyyy!” On and on and on. A good thing the huffing and puffing drown him out. Still, if I can keep this up, I might be able to keep up with him, for a few minutes a day, anyway. And that’s as good a goal as any. I am trying to play his mad running around in circles and whatnot games with him too. He likes running then.

I might be getting there. When I go on my own. Nothing to think about besides lifting my feet and puttingthem back down again. That and “What is that rustling in the bushes?” – cats, birds, dogs and lizards, all capable of making me jump out of my skin at three o’ clock on a sunny afternoon. Wimp? Me? Perhaps, little bit.

But a wimpy “runner” 😀

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My name is Turtle’s Mammy and I am a huffalump. Honestly, I am. I would have thought I was merely fat until I checked my BMI 😮 It would seem I have about 40lbs (3 & 1/2 stone) to lose before I get to the “overweight” category. And so I am resolved to eat less and exercise more. I have to. I thought I ate fairly healthily, but it would seem I have a rather unhealthy addiction to cheese. I also don’t drink any liquids that aren’t coffee or tea. And wholegrains are startlingly absent. I know this because I signed up for Weight Watchers online last week. (The thought of the meetings freak me out a bit, and what with the Hubby’s schedule I wouldn’t be able to attend every week anyway.) So I have been meticulously tracking my food intake and thinking about things before I eat them (although some bits and pieces seem to make their way to my mouth unbeknownst to me). And I’m not doing too badly. Even with my new penchant for wine (well, we are near the Santa Ynez valley!), I lost 4lbs in the first week. Whoop!! A small step, but a step nonetheless.

Another resolution? To exercise more. Not that I was doing much before. Chasing a toddler, but that was about it. So I have started the couch to 5k programme. Just. I’m 2/3 of the way through the first week. But I am determined. By February I may well be running 5k regularly. Eek! I tried running before but I didn’t know what I was doing. And running with someone who is a foot taller than you and runs regularly can be a bit demoralising. (You should see the Hubby run! He lifts his knees almost as high as my shoulders. I’m lucky I can lift mine off the ground!) The Hubby did come with me the first time, but I went by myself yesterday. I have to be able to motivate myself to go, otherwise I’ll get nowhere.

And I must get somewhere. I must get at least 40lbs away from where I am now.

Wish me luck!

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After a medical at which I learned that I was at least 20 pounds heavier than my already heavy estimation I have badgered the hubby into going “running” with me. To be fair to me, I had been badgering him to take me for quite a while before the shock of my own mass kicked the badgering up a notch.

So I am now a “runner”. These fellas (“”) are included because I’m not great at it. And I feel like I’m pretending. Another thing that doesn’t help is that I used to laugh at people jogging along the street. They just look so unnatural and ungainly. Olympians probably look quite natural, but the rest of us, mere mortals, look a bit ridiculous. There’s no denying it. I see people run and I think “That is why we should only run if there is an emergency.” But I have to do something. Otherwise I’ll be the size of a house. Blooming buffalo wings and cheese. And no will power. Waaaaaaaah!

I’m not doing too badly, I think. The first evening the hubby took off like a jack rabbit (he’s in the military and fit) leaving me in a pool of sweat, breathing like someone who smokes 40 a day, in under a minute! Yes that is right, I could not run for a minute without collapsing (I say run, but you know I mean jog, right?) That first evening I could barely manage to run from one lamppost to another without lying down and having a bit of cake. The next day, having thought about it and drudged up some bit of fluff from one of those reality tv shows that I don’t watch, ahem, I set the timer on my watch for 3 minutes. So I ran for 3 and walked for 3. On and on until we had done a mile and a half (or so).

On Sunday, I got a bit ahead of myself and set the timer for 6 minutes. Things didn’t go so well. Running before I could walk and all that. So now I’m at run for 4 and walk for 2. The theory being that next week I’ll run for 5 and walk for 1, the week after 6 and 1, the week after, I don’t know, I haven’t gotten that far. But soon, I’ll be running … far.

The only fly in the ointment is that I’m off to Ireland tomorrow. Without my running partner and Mr Motivator himself, the hubby. I’m doubting my commitment already. People know me over there. They’ll laugh. Nobody runs unless something’s on fire. It’s cold. Hailstoning. I’ll be on holidays….

But I will do my best. I don’t want to be the mother at the school gates in one of those scooter things, too fat to walk. Jamie Oliver is over here now. There’s a food revolution. I must try harder.